The Cydonian Pyramid

by Pete Hautman

  Without making a conscious decision to do so, she found herself walking up the driveway.

  By the time she reached Hardy Lake, the sun had settled on the horizon. She heard several sharp bangs, then excited voices. She walked up to the edge of the bank and sat down with Bounce. The boys were still there. Or perhaps they had left and then returned. One of them — Tom Krause — launched himself from the tree and swung out over the lake. Tucker and Will watched from the beach below. She saw the flare of a match. A streak of orange fire shot from Will’s hand as Tom neared the apex of his swing. A burst of yellow was instantly followed by a loud crack. Tom shouted something. Will and Tucker were laughing. Another rocket streaked toward Tom and exploded. Tom dragged his feet in the water to slow himself, leaped off the swing, and chased Will down the beach. Tucker followed. Lia would have been concerned, but both Tucker and Will were laughing. Clearly, this was some sort of game. It was strange, but no stranger than many of the other things people in this place did.

  “Boys are very entertaining,” Lia said to Bounce. Bounce was not impressed.

  Lia looked at the place in the air above the lake where she had seen the Gate, but saw nothing. Yar Song had once told her that the Gates were not reliable, that they came and went at will.

  “Whose will?” Lia had asked.

  “That is a mystery,” Song had said.

  The boys were coming back along the lakeshore, talking in loud voices, arguing over who would swing next. They didn’t notice Lia sitting on the bank.

  Lia raised her voice. “Why build your swing on the edge of a lake if you are not going to jump?”

  They looked up at her.

  “Why don’t you jump?” Will said.

  Lia climbed down the bank and joined them. “I heard explosions.”

  “They’re called fireworks.” Tom held up a handful of sticks attached to small cylinders. “These are rockets,” he said. “You light them here. I’ll show you.”

  “Wait a sec,” said Tucker, grabbing the rope. “Let me give you something to aim at.” He pulled the rope up the bank and started up the tree trunk as Tom and Will prepared to set off more of the bottle rockets. Seconds later, Tucker was swinging out and up — and suddenly he was in the air, and the rockets were exploding around him. She felt a moment of sheer terror as he plunged into the water, then exhilaration and relief as he surfaced and splashed back to shore, grinning broadly.

  Lia did not think about Ronnie Becker or her life in Hopewell. She thought only about Tucker Feye.

  After Tucker’s triumphant leap, the boys lost interest in the swing and focused on their fireworks, lighting off ever larger quantities and combinations of firecrackers, rockets, and a short tube that looked like a deacon’s stun baton but shot out fire like a priest’s arma. They called it a Roman candle. They used the last of the explosives by building a small fire of driftwood and leaves, then throwing everything they had left into the flames and running. Lia hid behind the tree as rockets and balls of fire flew in every direction. When it was over, she peeked out to see if any of them had been injured. They were standing somberly around the smoldering remains of the fire.

  “That was cool,” Will said, slapping a mosquito.

  “Really cool,” Tom said. “We should probably get home.”

  The boys climbed up the bank. Tom took out a pocketknife and began carving something on the tree trunk.

  “Come on, Tom. I want to get home,” Will whined.

  “Just give me a minute,” Tom said.

  “Why are you cutting the tree?” Lia asked.

  “I’m carving my initials,” Tom said.

  With their fireworks gone, the energy seemed to have drained out of them. Tom finished defacing the tree, then he and Will hopped on their bikes and took off, leaving Tucker and Lia alone.

  Tucker said, “Um . . . you want me to walk you home?”

  “I can walk,” Lia said.

  “I mean, you want some company?”

  “I do not mind.”

  Tucker walked his bike with his left hand on the handlebar, while Lia walked on his right. Bounce, who had run off while the fireworks were exploding, appeared from the tall grasses by the roadside and followed them. As they walked, the loudest sound was the legs of Tucker’s sodden shorts rubbing against each other. Lia would have liked to talk, but she didn’t know what to say. When the boys had been together, they talked all the time, as naturally as breathing. Lia had to think about what she said, and it didn’t always come out the way she wanted. She hoped Tucker wouldn’t think her stupid or dull.

  They were halfway back to the Beckers’ when Tucker finally spoke.

  “You’re kind of strange.”

  Lia stopped walking. She did not think she liked being called strange.

  Tucker quickly added, “I mean, I like that you’re the way you are.”

  “What way is that?” Lia asked.

  “Like everything is new to you. Like, that you’d never heard of fireworks.”

  “You like that I am ignorant?”

  “I didn’t mean that. I just mean . . . I don’t know what I mean. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I was just talking.”

  Lia liked that he had as much trouble expressing himself as she did.

  “Is it the way I talk?” she asked.

  “No! Well, maybe a little.”

  “I do not run my words together. I was taught to speak clearly.”

  “You talk fine.”

  “I know it is strange.”

  “I’m kind of strange, too,” Tucker said. “Look at my mom.”

  “Look at your mom?” Lia did not know what he meant.

  “She’s as strange as they come, and I’m her kid, so that makes me strange, too.”

  “You grew up here,” she said. “But to me, everything is strange, so I guess I am stranger than you.”

  They looked at each other.

  “I don’t even know what the word strange means anymore,” Tucker said. “That’s really strange.”

  They stared at each other for a heartbeat, then both of them started laughing. It felt good. Lia couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed.

  “I like you,” Tucker said.

  “You do?” She sensed that he was embarrassed. Why should he be embarrassed to like her?

  “Even if you are a little strange,” he said, and they laughed again.

  Neither of them was willing to risk saying anything more, so they started walking. In her head, Lia replayed the conversation they had just had. When she had told Ronnie that Tucker was her friend, she hadn’t really believed it. Now, she thought, it feels true. They continued in comfortable silence, except for the wet scraping sound of Tucker’s shorts, and did not stop or speak again until they reached the Beckers’ driveway.

  “Thank you for showing me fireworks,” Lia said. She picked up Bounce and held him. Bounce immediately began to purr loudly.

  “That cat really likes you,” Tucker said.

  “I like him.”

  “Maybe we could do something sometime. You and me. And the cat.”

  “I would like that,” Lia said. The moment felt both awkward and good.

  “Okay, then, see you!” Tucker said. He got on his bike and rode off. Lia watched his shape getting smaller, sad to see him go but happier than she had felt in a very long time. When he was out of sight, she turned to the house. The lights were all off. Arnold and Maria probably didn’t know she was out — as long as she did her chores, they paid her little notice. Ronnie’s truck was still gone. Lia let herself in and crept upstairs to her room, then lay down on her bed without undressing. Her clothes and hair smelled of fireworks. She closed her eyes to find images of exploding bottle rockets and Tucker Feye. He thought she was strange. Even though they had laughed about it, it bothered her. Will had teased her about the way she spoke. She did not squeeze words together the way Tucker and his friends did. She said do not instead of don’t, and I am instead of I’m. She had thought it
the polite way to talk, but if it made her sound foolish — or strange — she could change. Lying in bed, she practiced: Can’t. Shouldn’t. Won’t. It wasn’t that hard. Maybe it would make Tucker like her more.

  And what if he did? Was it enough to make her stay here in Hopewell? Lia strained to imagine the future. Tucker would enter a disko and travel to the pyramid in Romelas . . . or he would not. He would become the prophet Tuckerfeye . . . or he would not. They would both stay in Hopewell . . . or not. Maybe Hopewell was not such a bad place.

  After a time, her churning thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ronnie’s truck. She imagined his face leering at her. She could still feel the ghost sensation of his hand. The truck door slammed. She got up and moved her dresser against her door, then went back to bed without undressing. She heard Ronnie’s uneven footsteps in the hallway, heard him pause outside her door. The knob turned. Her door opened a crack but was stopped by the heavy dresser. Ronnie muttered some curse words, then clomped unevenly down the hallway to his own bedroom.

  She waited a very long time for sleep to come.

  LIA WOKE UP TO THE SMELL OF BACON. ALTHOUGH SHE could not bring herself to consume animal flesh, she enjoyed the sweet, smoky smell. If I ever eat meat, she thought, it will be bacon. She sat up and looked out the window. It was still dark, not quite dawn. Ronnie’s truck was parked crookedly by the side of the driveway. She thought about his hand on her knee. She wanted to tell Maria but feared she would not be believed. Maria tended to overlook Ronnie’s shortcomings, and Ronnie would be angry with her for telling.

  She dragged the dresser away from the door and went downstairs. Ronnie was sitting at the kitchen table, eating bacon.

  “Morning, kiddo,” he said. It was the same thing he said every morning. But on this morning, his voice was raspy and his eyes were cupped by dark circles.

  Maria saw Lia in the doorway, scooped some oatmeal into a bowl, and placed it on the table.

  “Ronnie is not feeling well,” she said.

  “Touch of flu,” Ronnie said.

  Maria snorted. Ronnie bit off a piece of bacon and chewed it slowly, his eyes on Lia.

  Later that day, Lia was in the henhouse collecting eggs when she turned and found Ronnie standing silhouetted in the low doorway.

  “How’s it going?” he said.

  “You’re feeling better,” Lia observed, consciously using the contraction.

  “Maria made me some of her magic tea. It’ll either cure a hangover or kill you. Also, I ran into town and had a little breakfast bump. Hair of the dog.”

  Lia had tried Maria’s hackberry tea last winter when she had come down with a cold. It had tasted like sour dirt, but it had soothed her throat. She was not sure what a “breakfast bump” was, but she suspected it had something to do with beer. As for “hair of the dog,” she had no clue.

  Ronnie ducked his head and stepped into the henhouse. The hens nearest him began squawking and ruffling their feathers. Lia wondered what he had done to them in the past to make them so nervous.

  “If you come closer, I’ll throw an egg at you,” Lia said.

  Ronnie gave her an incredulous look, then laughed loudly.

  “You’re a pistol,” he said.

  “I am not.”

  He laughed again. “Okay, you’re not a pistol. By the way, your boyfriend? He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everybody in town is talking about it.”

  “Talking about what?”

  “The Feyes. They left town.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Lia said. Last night, the last thing Tucker had said was, See you! He had said nothing about taking a trip.

  “It’s true,” Ronnie said, grinning.

  Lia did not understand why he seemed so happy about it. She wanted to throw the egg she was holding — anything to erase that unpleasant smirk.

  “Where did they go?” she asked.

  “Nobody knows. The Reverend left a letter with the sheriff saying that he and Emily were going to some hospital and the kid was staying with relatives. Henry Hall said he saw the kid riding off in the Reverend’s car with some guy he didn’t know. They had a whole trailer full of stuff, and they closed the house down, so I wouldn’t expect him back anytime soon. Oh, and some new guy is supposed to be coming to town to take over the Reverend’s church. Weird, huh?”

  Lia was speechless. She didn’t want to believe what Ronnie was telling her.

  “Do you know when they’re coming back?”

  Ronnie shrugged. “Maybe never. Why? You miss your boyfriend already?”

  Lia threw the egg but missed. The egg splattered on the door frame.

  “Whoa!” Ronnie said, backing out of the henhouse. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

  “Go away,” Lia said. She was afraid she might start crying, and she would not do that in front of Ronnie.

  A second later, Ronnie stuck his head back in the doorway and said, “By the way, Maria said to tell you to clean the gutters when you’re done here.” He ducked back quickly, before she could throw another egg.

  As Lia stood on the ladder, scooping leaves and sludge out of the gutters, she could not stop thinking about Tucker Feye and his parents. It felt wrong, that they should leave so suddenly. She cleaned the section of gutter she was able to reach, climbed down, moved the ladder over, and climbed back up. She did not enjoy scooping rotting leaves out of the aluminum trough, but she liked being up high. To the east, just beneath the sun, she could see the top of Hopewell House peeking above the horizon. She thought about the Gate on the roof of the old hotel, wondering if it was still there. She thought about the other Gates she had seen, one at Hardy Lake, and the other above Tucker Feye’s home.

  With Tucker gone and Ronnie being meaner than ever, she had little reason to remain in Hopewell. Entering one of the Gates would be a huge risk, but staying here with Ronnie might turn out to be worse.

  “Lahlia!”

  Lia looked down. Maria was standing at the base of the ladder with her hands on her hips.

  “What on earth are you doing up there?”

  “I’m cleaning the gutter,” Lia said.

  “Why?”

  “Ronnie told me to.”

  Maria compressed her lips and looked around. “Ronnie!” she yelled. Ronnie was nowhere in sight. “I swear, that boy! Come down off that ladder before you fall and break your neck.” Lia climbed down. Maria said, “I suppose if Ronnie told you to jump off a cliff you’d do that too.”

  Ronnie appeared from around the side of the house.

  “Hey, Ma. What’s up?”

  “Did you tell Lahlia to clean the gutters?”

  “Well, I might have mentioned they needed cleaning.”

  “That’s right. And you were supposed to do it.”

  “I’d have gotten around to it.”

  “You seem to have recovered from the flu,” Maria said.

  “Magic tea,” Ronnie said with a sideways wink at Lia.

  “Cleaning gutters is a man’s job.” Maria glared at her son, then transferred her glare to Lia. “Dishes need washing,” she said, jerking her chin toward the kitchen.

  Maria entered the kitchen just as Lia was drying the last plate. She surveyed the clean dishes and immaculate counter and nodded in approval.

  “Raspberries need picking,” she said. Maria was fanatical about making sure every last ripe berry was collected.

  Lia fetched a colander from the pantry and started out the door.

  “Lahlia . . .” Maria’s voice went soft.

  Lia turned to look back at her.

  “Did Ronnie try something with you?” Maria asked.

  Lia did not speak for a moment, then said, “He put his hand on my knee.”

  “Is that all?”

  Lia nodded.

  Maria compressed her lips, as if that was no more than she had suspected. “Your body is changing.”

  Lia had, of course, been aware of that. Since arri
ving in Hopewell, she had grown taller, and her shape was changing. She was a Pure Girl no longer.

  Maria said, “Boys will be boys. Best you avoid him. If he bothers you again, you let me know.” Maria turned away. “Now, go pick those berries,” she said over her shoulder.

  Lia went out to the raspberry hedge. As she plucked the soft ripe berries from the prickly canes, she imagined how her life would be if she stayed in Hopewell. Could Maria protect her from Ronnie? Did she need to be protected? Ronnie had not really done anything other than touch her leg. Was that so bad? She had made it clear to him that she did not like being touched. Perhaps that would be enough. More likely he would find another place and another time to put his hand back on her knee, and more.

  What would Yar Song do? Yar Song would do what Yar Song had done. She had returned to Romelas to become a Yar.

  Lia set the half-filled colander on the ground. She walked up the long driveway to the road and turned south, toward Tucker Feye’s house.

  There was no Gate.

  Lia knocked on the door. No one answered. She peered through the kitchen window. The refrigerator was empty, its door propped open. The house had an empty feel to it, matched by the empty feeling in her gut. Ronnie had been telling the truth. The Feyes were gone.

  She backed away from the house and looked up at the roof, willing the Gate to appear. Nothing. She found a ladder hanging from hooks on the side of the garage, dragged it over to the house, and leaned it against the eaves. She climbed onto the roof, sat at the peak, and waited.

  She remained on the roof until the sun touched the horizon, but the Gate did not come. Wearily, Lia climbed down and began the long walk back to the Beckers’ farm. Sooner or later, she told herself, the Gate will return, and I will leave this place.

  HANDS OF DAYS PASSED. THE CORN GREW TALLER; THE calves grew fatter. Lia visited the Feye house whenever she had a chance, but the Gate did not appear. Arnold became more skillful with his crutches and spent his days following Ronnie around to make sure he performed his tasks with adequate rigor. Under Arnold’s watchful eyes, Ronnie grew surly and peevish. He began going into town and eating his supper at the Pigeon Drop Inn. Lia could not blame him for not wanting to eat with his father. All they ever did was argue. But she wished he would not come home drunk. She blocked her bedroom door with her dresser every night, although Ronnie did not try to enter her room again.